


picture almost perfect

by Siriusstuff



Series: Teodor Claudius Talan Stilinski-Hale [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Claudia Stilinski Feels, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Ficlet, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Newborn child, Parenthood, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusstuff/pseuds/Siriusstuff
Summary: The Sheriff spends some time with his brand new grandson.





	picture almost perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This latest part, the 22nd of this series, is the earliest (so far) in the chronology. Teo is just four days old.
> 
> I finally reveal the origin of his names, and something else.
> 
> Spoiler info in the end notes.

John Stilinski was certain he’d held his grandchild no more than twice since the boy was born four days ago.

He still wasn’t holding his grandchild despite coming to the house for that very reason.

Instead he was looking at another photo of the baby sleeping in Derek’s arms, exactly like the previous dozen photos also of the baby sleeping in Derek’s arms.

“Stiles.”

“See his little mouth? Isn’t it perfect? Isn’t it the perfect little mouth?”

“Stiles?” The Sheriff attempted to interrupt the near-manic stream of rapturous words flowing from his son’s chapped lips, with no success until Stiles’s first pause. “Are you getting any sleep?” John asked.

“Sleep? Yes! I just took a nap.—Look, look at this one!”

The photo showed the baby on his back in a onesie with the Mets logo over the heart.

“He’s the best baby.” Stiles resumed, swiping through what seemed to John hundreds of hardly varying photos. “I know he’s gonna be a fan, just like me.”

“Any chance I can see him, in person, Stiles?”

“Yes. Yeah. Sure. Of course,” Stiles ranted. “Diaper change in progress upstairs. He pooped,” he added with pride.

John was a little surprised he hadn’t seen photos of that.

“Look at this one. His eyes are open!” Stiles went on.

“He’s a looker alright,” John said before rising from his seat to pour a glass of water for his son, currently looking like he did during his all-nighter years—which would now be returning.

Stiles drank the water readily.

“Look, I’ll stay for a while, a few hours. I think you should get some sleep, son.”

“I woke up just b’fore you got here, dad,” Stiles lied. “I just wanna keep my eyes open, make sure the baby’s OK. Derek too. He’s been through a lot.”

“I’ll look after both of them. I know what you’re feeling. New fathers feel it. I felt it when we brought you home for the first time. But you can’t help anybody when you’re exhausted.”

Stiles was not exhausted enough to agree. But at that moment the sound of footsteps on the stairs signaled Derek’s descent, in his arms the little baby with the long name.

Stiles put down his phone and elatedly received his son while Derek and the Sheriff embraced.

“Hey, sweetie pie. You smell so sweet! You’re so sweet, my precious baby boy!” Stiles squeed before pouring more kisses and endearments upon the four day old.

When Stiles looked up again the longing on his father’s face moved him to hand over his sweet little baby boy.

“Someone’s waiting to see you!”

He held his precious close and let his father take it from him.

Though rejoicing inwardly that he held his grandson at last, John’s words addressed Derek.

“Can you get him to lay down for a nap at least?” The Sheriff meant Stiles. “Stiles, I promise I’ll stay here till you wake up.”

Derek held his husband close and spoke too quietly for the Sheriff to hear.

“OK,” Stiles said, “but first I wanna—” He grabbed his phone once more and aimed it at his father and child.

John didn’t look toward the camera. He faced the baby whose wide eyes stared at him as if with intense interest. “Hey there, kiddo. It’s your old grandfather again. It’s good to see you, boy.”

He heard the fake shutter sound repeatedly. Then Stiles said, “Dad, we haven’t decided about what he’s gonna call you. Talia and Malcolm got dibs on _grandma_ and _grandpa_. They’ve been grandma and grandpa for—”

“Stiles, don’t worry about it,” John interrupted.” He’ll call me whatever he wants to—”

“Oh, we’ll figure it out before—”

“Stiles, go get some sleep!” John insisted, without raising his voice.

“OK, but first.” Stiles leaned over and kissed the baby’s head a few times. “Papa loves, you, Teodor. Loves you so, so much! I’ll be back soon!”

Derek guided Stiles to the kitchen doorway, though not without his overwhelmingly protective wolf forcing him to ask, “You’ll be OK with him a minute—?”

John rolled his eyes. “Derek, I have held babies before. I know how.” He kept his voice soft despite the urge to firmly remind both new parents he’d raised a son from birth, was aware of the proper, secure way to hold infants. He could feed a baby too, change its diaper, and keep it safe from countless dangers in this world.

“I’ll be right back,” Derek repeated nonetheless.

John waited till Stiles’s still rambling voice faded away up the stairs then let out a deep breath.

This was the very first time he’d been wholly alone with the baby, neither Stiles or Derek hovering near, none of Derek’s family or pack, not even Melissa who also seemed doubtful John’s skill set included child care.

On the job John had seen his share of newborns, in an emergency or three even helped in their deliveries.

He knew that sometimes freshly arrived babes looked a bit squashed, held their arms and legs close to their bodies as their prior confinement required, had odd shaped heads. The one in his arms bore no such defects however temporary. He was already quite handsome in John’s grandfatherly opinion. He wondered if it might be because his grandson was a baby werewolf. The aged midwife Talia Hale called on to assist in the birth had told the pack and all concerned parties that, yes, Derek’s and Stiles’s child was a werewolf.

Lacking any trace of claws, fangs, fur, John’s very first grand looked only human to him.

“Teodor,” he stated, as if savoring the sound of the name in his own voice. “Teodor Claudius.”

He still tripped up at the third name.

The baby’s large eyes stayed fixed on him, the serious expression on its face calling up a smile on John’s.

Saying the baby’s second name invoked Claudia, as had his every single sight of their grandchild. Only at that moment did he actually speak her name aloud.

“Claudia,” he said, “look what our boy did.”

Tough lawman John Stilinski turned silent after that, felt tears welling, more emotions than he usually experienced at once compelling him to cry and grin simultaneously.

The little one’s cheeks, the flawless miniatures of its ears, its fingers, its nose exactly like Stiles’s at the same very early age—John couldn’t help but touch, with utter gentleness.

Stroking the back of his finger over a plump cheek made the baby turn its head toward John’s hand.

“Sorry, son. I don’t have a bottle for you.”

He touched his thumb to the baby’s palm and smiled at the immediate grip closing on it.

“You caught me.” Moving his thumb moved the baby’s arm with it. Teo’s eyes glanced away.

“Oh, don’t like that? My apologies again,” John said.

Ten pounds of infant felt nearly weightless to him. He could literally palm it but it would be just his luck Derek would appear if he tried.

He cradled the baby closer to his chest, keeping his fingertips stroking over the baby’s front.

“So tell me, young man, what’s your opinion of things so far?” He rocked the baby in short sways, always watching for reactions, which were mostly head wobbles or kitten-soft noises.

“I’ll tell you one thing, you are truly lucky with these fathers of yours. They’ll treat you right. And if they don’t—” John heard Derek returning so with his voice at the lowest whisper he could manage, “ _you let me know!”_ he finished hurriedly.

Derek sat down at the table without asking or even gesturing for his pup, but also without taking his eyes off it.

Surprised but not ready to return the baby, John asked, “So, how are _you_ feeling, son?”

The circumstances of his grandson’s arrival, miraculous even amongst werewolves, John preferred not to dwell on just yet. But there had been complications. Stiles had been frantic. Derek had required supernatural assistance to complete a supernatural pregnancy. He’d been cut open.

“I’m fine,” Derek answered, like Stiles refusing to admit his tiredness or how their once quiet twosome household acquiring a third member had re-ordered their priorities permanently and in the extreme.

“I’m completely healed,” Derek said, knowing the Sheriff had no interest in visual verification.

Instead Derek left the table, opened the refrigerator. “Do you want to eat something? Everyone’s brought us food.”

“That’s good!” John said. “And no, I’m not hungry right now.” He didn’t want Derek doing anything unnecessary.

“Well, Teodor will be, soon.” Derek gathered up a baby bottle and the other things to prepare formula.

“’Teodor,’” John repeated. It seemed a regal appellation for such a minute being. “You going to call him ‘Teddy’ eventually?”

“Stiles calls him _Teo_ sometimes.”

John hadn’t thought of that. “That’s cute.” He looked down at the baby who’d become restless since hearing his father’s voice.

“I like it too,” Derek said. “Has Stiles told you about the ritual next week? We’re having a naming ritual.”

Stiles had been too euphoric or distracted for coherent communication the prior four days.

“I don’t think so,” was all John answered.

“Under the next full moon, we’ll present Teodor to Mother Moon to thank her for giving him to Stiles and me and to our pack and to ask for his protection by her.”

John hadn’t expected Derek’s reverential tone.

“We’ll each say his name.”

“ _All_ of them?” John asked.

Smiling but respectful, “It’s only three plus our last name.”

“I’m going to need practice,” John declared.

“Hold him like this.” Derek demonstrated and the Sheriff followed, firmly holding Teodor before him, Derek watching his every motion.

The baby wasn’t having it, cranky sounds multiplying.

“ _Teodor_ means ‘divine gift,’ and that’s to honor Mother Moon goddess. _Claudius_ honors,” Derek paused, “your wife, Stiles’s mother, Teodor’s grandmother.”  Another pause. “ _Talan_ is a Welsh name that sounds like _my_ mother’s and we liked it better than _Talian.”_

“I understand.”

“So…” Derek tipped his hands toward John, to recite the names.

“Teodor Claudius Talan Stilinski-Hale,” he pronounced perfectly. “Your name’s bigger than you are,” he couldn’t help adding.

From the little body came a decided complaint.

“Uh oh!” John said sweetly. “You’re gonna wake your other dad!” He held the baby close again and resumed swaying in his seat.

It didn’t help. Another _crank_ followed, and after that what sounded like a thud from upstairs, the latter John choosing to ignore.

“Can he smell his food?” John wondered aloud. Human newborns took their time figuring out their new surroundings. Maybe newborn werewolves were quicker studies.

“I don’t know,” Derek answered. “Usually the sense of smell in infant werewolves isn’t much different from humans’.” Derek had done _a lot_ of studying. “But Teo… may be different.” Proudly he concluded, “He’s kind of a miracle.”

“He’s kind of a miracle,” John echoed.

Teo was not going to quiet down but fortunately his bottle was ready.

John expected to be asked to relinquish the boy, _not_ to be given the bottle—just as Stiles returned, looking disoriented and even more bedraggled.

Neither John nor Derek said a thing, knowing the pointlessness of it. The baby, getting shifted upright in his grandfather’s arm, was far more interesting than anything else in the room, possibly anything else in the universe, though all he did was suck down his formula.

“He’s got an appetite like yours,” John informed Stiles, through a big smile.

“You’re good at that, dad,” Stiles said. “You might’ve just risen to the top of the baby-sitter list.”

 _As if either of you are letting him out of your sight till he’s eighteen,_ John thought, though what he said was, “Any time.”

With a cloth over his shoulder John even got to burp the baby, to his great gladness a necessity for infants human _or_ werewolf.

He looked at Stiles, chin in hand but eyes wide, his phone-cam inactive on the tabletop, forgotten in Stiles’s fatigue. Derek stood behind his husband, both their expressions somewhere between exhaustion and adoration.

Attentively and delicately thumping Teo’s back the Sheriff had the fleeting thought that moment was one of his life’s most perfect—or almost perfect—and when Teo burped all three men grinned as if at a great achievement by a very little thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I know how some people feel about mpreg so I'm a title nervous about the reveal that Derek gave birth to Teo. I think I've implied this, vaguely, in earlier parts of the series. But this was always my intended origin of Teodor, because I always wanted him to be Stiles's and Derek's kid, with 100% Sterek genetics. Derek bears him, not Stiles, because it seems to me a male werewolf can shape-shift a womb, under just the right conditions. Those conditions, the complications mentioned in the fic, and much more will all be described in a still unwritten fic that will become the first one in the chronology, Teo's "origin story."


End file.
